Christmas Together
by Abboz
Summary: The first winter after they met, Clint encourages Natasha to spend the holidays with him. Looking forward to treating her, he endeavours to show her how magical the festive season can be if you've got someone you love to spend it with.
1. Christmas Together

Christmas Together

"What're you planning to do for Christmas, Nat?" Clint dropped onto the sofa beside her, distracting her from the pages of the novel in her hand. It was something Russian, the characters on the cover told him that much, but he was still new to learning the language and the translation of the three words surpassed his knowledge. He had an inkling that one word meant 'lost', exactly how he felt whenever she persuaded him to give such a book a try.

She shrugged. "I thought I'd read, watch a movie."

He tilted his head with a smile. "What, you don't want to hang out with me? I'd love to spend it with you."

"Don't you have plans? People to spend it with?"

"Well I don't have family, not really, not that I see, and you know you're the best friend I have." He smiled.

"Then what do you usually do?"

"On the day itself, depends. Every year around Christmas, I go and spend a morning helping at an orphanage, the one I lived in. I hang out with the kids, play games if they want, bring some kind of gift for them all. This year they asked if I'd go on Christmas Day. After lunch, we can go back to the apartment, huddle under a blanket, watch the Christmas movies on TV, eat too much chocolate, have pizza for dinner." Her lips twitched at the edges. "Go on."

Slowly, she nodded. "Okay. Just make it good."

Clint grinned. "Deal."

* * *

Stepping into the apartment, Clint smiled as he took in the sea of things on the floor around Nat, a range of toys and accessories that would appeal to all kinds of children and teenagers, and a huge pile of wrapping paper at her side. "What's all this?"

She glanced up at him but otherwise stayed focused on her task. "For the children at the home."

He smiled, simply standing and watching her, silent until he forced himself to refocus. "Can I help? You're gonna be here all night otherwise."

Looking up at him, she narrowed her eyes questioningly. "Can you wrap neatly?"

"Yeah. Promise."

"Then okay, but don't mess it up. I want it to show that some care was put into these."

Sitting down beside her, Clint reached for a present and some paper. "Yeah, I get it." He began to wrap the gift, taking almost as much care with the wrapping as he had with hers. "You bought something for every single child?"

"I phoned the home and spoke to the head care worker, she sent me a list of a present each child had asked for that they couldn't afford. Apparently their Christmas donations were a lot lower this year, worse than ever, so I paid for these for them." Freezing halfway through a fold, he just stared, seconds ticking by as she hoped for the crease in his brow to disappear. "They'll love your present too."

He smiled. "Thank you. I know they'll appreciate it almost as much as I do." When she didn't respond, he gently nudged her shoulder with his, letting her know that was okay; he was happy to simply continue helping her, just sit quietly at her side and enjoy the sanctuary in each other and their cosy two bedroom apartment.

* * *

On Christmas morning when they arrived at the children's home, Clint took the head carer aside, waiting for the children to move a little further away from them before he spoke. "Everything okay?" She nodded. "The kids alright?"

"Mostly, most of them."

He nodded, eyebrows drawing together. He knew how hard the holidays could be for an orphan. "Someone isn't?"

"Maya doesn't want to come out her room, she's five, her… she's _new_."

Natasha watched the concern on her partner's face, tilting her head a little. "Can I talk to her?"

"Go ahead. She needs checking on. Just let her decide whether to come down."

She nodded, cracking half a smile at the encouraging grin on Clint's face, and headed into the hall and up the stairs to find her. The name on the door told her where the girl would be, and the redhead knocked on the door before slowly opening it. "Hello." A dark haired girl was sat on the bed, her duvet round her shoulders and a small toy rabbit in her lap that she was very gently stroking. Cautiously, as softly as she could, she began to walk inside. "Hey, my name's Natasha. Are you Maya?" The girl didn't answer, but she suspected than an unlikely mistake would have had her instantly correcting her. "Are you alright?" Maya looked up at her, though didn't speak, but she took that as a good sign. "I'm here with my friend Clint to spend the morning with you all. But I hear you don't want to come downstairs."

The young girl shook her head determinedly. "No."

"How come?"

"I'm sad."

Sitting at the foot of her bed, Natasha took in the girl's watering eyes, surprised to see no evidence on her cheeks of fallen tears; she had a feeling this was one strong little girl. "Why are you sad?"

"My parents died."

She frowned. "I'm sorry. How long ago?"

The girl shrugged. "It snowed."

"So a few weeks." She leant a little closer, purposefully shortening their height difference. "I lost my parents when I was five."

"Really?"

The redhead nodded. "Losing them was nowhere near the worst thing that ever happened to me. But I'm okay." She took in the child's curiosity, her wide eyes radiating warmth despite her recent suffering. "You've still got people here that care about you. And I know you'll find a wonderful best friend, someone you can truly trust, like I've got Clint." Her lips curled slightly upwards as she finally elicited a smile from the girl. "We've brought you a Christmas present. Think you can come down and get it?"

The child nodded. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Merry Christmas." She tilted her head. "Come on then." Maya climbed off her bed and carried her rabbit downstairs, Natasha following behind to find Clint waiting for her at the bottom. He was grinning. "What?"

The archer shrugged, the feeling having become common. "I'm proud. What did you say to her?"

"I just told her the truth."

* * *

Clint walked through the house, wondering where Nat had disappeared to, and looking for her as he headed to the kitchen to make them both a drink. He found her in the hallway, a hint of a smile on her lips as she gazed at something on the wall. "What are you looking at?"

Her smile grew a little. "Seven year old Clint Barton."

"What?" He walked to her side, following her line of sight. A picture from his childhood years at the home, a group shot of all the children that had lived there at the time. "Oh look at me."

"You were so cute." The redhead glanced back at him with a sly grin. "What happened?"

He smiled. "Dunno. Maybe I lost it and you got all my cuteness."

Other than a slight smile, Natasha ignored his comment, turning back to the wall. "Do you think they've got more?"

"What? Photos of me? Maybe, but they gave me most of them. I've got them back at the flat, the start of an album and a box of the ones that never made it into it." When she met his gaze, he beamed at her curiosity. "I'll show you later."

Her eyes searched his as they stood in companionable silence for a moment. "They really looked after you here, didn't they?"

He nodded, slow and deliberate. "They fed me, clothed me, gave me shelter. Yeah we were poor and in the winter it was pretty cold. I was lonely because I didn't have any friends… didn't dare trust anyone either, even my brother. But it was the safest I ever was as a child, and if it wasn't for them I would have been on the streets."

She offered him a small, affectionate smile. "We will never be lonely ever again."

"I know." He nodded, taking in the soft curl of her lips as he mirrored it. "I've got you. And you've got me."

* * *

Clint rose from his seat on the sofa and handed his game controller to the child on his left. Excusing himself, he walked across to Natasha, who was stood at the back of the room, and leant against the wall beside her. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded. "Just watching you in your element, playing video games."

"Come and join."

"Wouldn't want to show you up in front of your little fans."

"But I want to spend my Christmas with you, remember?" He beamed, reluctantly looking away when one of the children called his name. The girl, about thirteen, pointed above them and Clint laughed; mistletoe. He shook his head, unsurprised to find his partner rolling her eyes at the child's suggestion. "Yes, kissing under mistletoe is sweet and romantic for couples, but you don't make someone kiss you just because you're standing under mistletoe."

He missed the little smile that snuck its way across his partner's features, distracted by the few chorusing children that attempted to coax them into giving in with a set of unconvincing arguments.

Tired of listening to calls of 'Go on!' and 'But you want to!', Clint leant closer to Natasha, his voice little more than breath whispered against her skin. "Trust me."

As she gave a little nod, he closed the remaining space between them, pressing his lips to her cheekbone with a tender kiss and smiling as almost imperceptibly she leant into his touch.

As he gently withdrew, he stepped back again to face the children once more. "And that's all the kisses you're getting."

The right corner of the redhead's lips lifted in a smirk. "Them or me?"

"Them. You're welcome to more kisses if you want them."

"Hoping I will?"

Neither confirming nor denying her theory, Clint began walking back towards the television. "Now, our turn." He gestured for one of the children to pass Natasha a controller, then turned to face her. "Come _on_ , join me."

"Alright. You're going down, Barton."

Furrowing his brow, he purposefully tilted his head at her. "What? You're not going to be on my team?"

She smiled. "I'm always on your team. I'm just gonna beat your score."

" _Oh_ , I see how it is. Okay." Clint beamed. "Challenge accepted. Bring it on, Romanoff."

* * *

After a modest roast dinner, the partners headed home. The spring in Clint's step reminded Natasha of a puppy she'd met on the streets of Moscow, bright-eyed with its tail wagging as it bounded up to her. For the few minutes it had lingered, she'd forgotten what she was and how life had treated her to bring her there. She was just a girl playing with a puppy.

Doing his staple impression of reading her mind, he'd ushered her onto the sofa as soon as they'd made it inside, eyes wide as he gazed at her. This Christmas, perhaps she could be just a normal woman spending the day with her partner, pretend she deserved it.

"Please open your presents first. I am _so_ excited to see you open them."

Her lips twitched at the edges. "You are?"

He nodded vigorously. "You are going to love them, I swear. Besides, why wouldn't I be excited about watching you open your first ever Christmas presents? I'm still really excited that you wanted to share your first Christmas with me."

She started to smile properly, the grin growing steadily until it was broad across her face. "Well I didn't have any other options, you're better than nothing."

"Thanks. If that's how it is, I won't give you any presents."

Shaking her head, she reached out and gently tapped his knee with her forefinger. "Thank you for today."

"You're welcome." Clint leant closer. "Now, open. Merry Christmas." As he placed the gift in her hands, she gently took it from him, watching him carefully. Even when he grinned, her expression didn't alter. "Trust me."

Those two words from him meant she had to; he had never steered her wrong with them and she knew he never would. Silently, she began to open her first present, a solid, rectangular shape that he'd wrapped with purposeful care in red paper. Inside was a black photo frame protecting a print of the first picture they'd ever taken together all those months ago as they celebrated her joining S.H.I.E.L.D., posing in the early hours of the morning under the light of a street lamp. It had turned out so much clearer than she'd imagined it could given the lack of light, his smile radiating from his phone that night as he set his background image. "I was so horrible to you then."

"What? No you weren't." Brow furrowing, he shook his head. "You weren't. You were funny, and sassy, fierce, smart, strong. You laughed with me, teased my about my bow and then told me you wanted me to teach you to use it. Tasha, you were kind hearted, even when you feared you weren't capable of that; you trusted me, and made me feel that I could trust you even though I didn't trust anyone else. You looked after me, worried about me, protected me, gave me information to save my life, all the day before this." He tapped the edge of the photo, softening his voice even more. "Yes you were a little more guarded with me than you are now, so was I with you. But I promise there was not a single moment where I didn't think I was lucky to have met you, to have you in my life, especially as my partner. I never thought you were horrible and I have never regretted helping you the day we met, saving you as you put it, and I know I never will. That was the greatest decision I could ever make, and I saw no alternative. Tash, you are the greatest thing in my life, my partner, my best friend, my world. I am the luckiest and happiest man in existence, because I have you."

Reaching out to him, Natasha gripped the side of his t-shirt, drawing him closer to her. "Hug me." He lifted his arms up to envelope her in them; normally, when he hugged her, he slipped his arms under hers to ensure she would feel free and not trapped, and it was always him that initiated it, touching her only with her consent. But the curl of her fingers at his waist as he began to pull her close showed him that, if only that one time, she wanted him to fold her into his embrace, to tuck her against him and gently cradle her in his arms. He was more than happy to oblige, feeling her palms come to rest against the small of his back, letting him know she was comfortable and content. "Thank you for the photo. And for getting me to take it with you."

He smiled. "Well, I wanted to see my beautiful partner's face every time I looked at my phone. So thanks for humouring me." He felt her fist clench the back of his t-shirt. "I'm not done yet. There's more."

"One minute."

Clint nodded, unsure whether she could tell. "Sure, just let go when you're ready."

"More?"

"Don't act like you only expected one gift. You know me better than that, Tasha." Her lips quirked at one end. "Anyway, just one photo isn't a very good present, especially for your first Christmas."

"My freedom is enough; a year ago I didn't think I'd have that. A year ago I doubt I was even able to want that."

He purposefully held her just a little tighter. "You're okay. I won't ever let you go back to that. I won't let anyone take you back to that. It wasn't your fault, you didn't know what you were doing."

She nodded against his chest, though a little more weakly than he'd have preferred. "I'm far stronger than what they did to me."

"I know. I've always known." He let a few more seconds pass, and then slowly began to release her from his embrace. "Now will you open your other present for me?"

"Yeah." She nodded with a smile. "Okay, I can humour you."

"Don't I know it. You're an expert at tolerating me. Here." Placing the gift in her waiting hands, he watched as a perplexed expression crossed her features, letting her ponder what could be in the thin box. "You'll like it, I promise. Trust me."

Obliging, she lifted the lid and picked up the two small pieces of card inside, beaming. "Tickets to see the Bolshoi?"

"Yeah." He nodded his head towards the box, so she placed the tickets on her lap to look inside once more.

"And a room at a hotel?"

"A fancy one, in the middle of the city, great restaurant."

"You booked all this for me?"

"Yeah. You told me you like ballet. Don't know if you remember, you didn't elaborate, but I saw the little smile when you said it. And they are meant to be the best."

"And Russian."

"Well yeah. The show is exactly a year after we met. I've booked you an amazing room, for a week, so we'll still be out there to celebrate the anniversary of _officially_ becoming partners. I thought we could spend a few days with you showing me the sights in Moscow, try a few different places to eat." He smiled at the awe in her eyes. "You don't have to take me, it's your present, but I was planning on flying us there myself. And I would really like you to show me why ballet is so special for you personally."

"Of course you're coming. Thank you. It sounds wonderful." He let his smile grow as he watched her evident joy. "You remember the date we met?"

He nodded. "Best day of my life."

"Thanks." She consciously locked eyes with him. "Thanks for this trip. It's perfect."

"That beautiful smile there is more than enough reward. Plus I get to spend a whole week on vacation with you, treating you. Happy Christmas, Tash."

Leaning closer, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I just hope you'll like your gifts."

"Oh I know I will. Anyway, having someone that I care about, that really matters to me, to spend today with, to share the whole holidays with; I honestly never thought I'd get that."

Natasha tilted her head a little. "Me neither. But it's different now; we have each other. You have me."

He beamed. "And don't I know how lucky I am. I also know that I'm gonna love whatever you got me, so can I see?"

Smirking at him, she nodded. "Impatient?"

"More excited. Come on, humour me, please."

"Okay." Carefully, and a little ceremoniously, she handed him a box covered in silver paper. "Happy Christmas."

Gratefully accepting the gift, he eagerly began to open it, tearing away the wrapping in the hope of revealing the contents. As Clint peeled the last piece of wrapping paper away from the centre, letting it drop to the floor, he froze for a few seconds, temporarily stunned into silence by the box he held in his hands.

"Do you like it?" Leaning slightly to one side, she peered across at him, trying to read his features. Gift giving was a completely alien concept for her, she loved the idea when it came to sharing it with him, but she didn't know how people were supposed to react, whether to expect a broad grin or a quiet smile, or if everything would be in the look in his eyes, supposing he even liked it. "It's the first gift I've ever given anyone."

He still had a firm hold of the white box frame, the sight of his old purple mask within slowly lifting the corners of his mouth. He looked up at his partner, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Tasha, I love it." When he'd decided to ditch the mask from his uniform, at her suggestion just a few weeks after they'd met, he'd handed it to her and simply expected her to dispose of it, hadn't minded if she did. It hadn't really crossed his mind that she would keep it, that something so small, and deemed so silly, would matter to her. "I absolutely love it. Thank you. Can I?" Still beaming, he placed his present on the table, holding his arms out to her and waiting for her to smile and nod before drawing her into a gentle hug. "Thank you so much." He held her for just a few seconds more and then let her go, conscious that she was still wary of people touching her, and as she'd told him the first time she'd warily let him hug her, was still waiting for her body to adjust to what her mind already knew: he wouldn't hurt her. "I love it so much, Tash. The first gift you've ever given? Well you've put mine to shame."

She tentatively shook her head. "I see the heart in yours."

He smiled. "Thanks."

"I got you this too." She gave him the second present, protected in a poster tube that she'd decorated with shiny purple paper, and a silver bow tied around its middle. "Be careful with it."

His curiosity piqued, Clint nodded, taking off the cap and slowly tilting the tube so enough of the item showed for him to gently remove it. It was a large white piece of paper rolled around something he couldn't determine, and in keeping with her request of care, with her help moved everything off the coffee table. Placing his gift on the table, he unrolled the paper, beaming from ear to ear when he reached the centre. "An arrow." There was even a purple ribbon wrapped around the middle, made into a delicate little bow. Wrapping his fingers round the arrow shaft, he ran his gaze over the blueprints that had enclosed the object, and turned back to her. "Tell me."

"We've been working so hard with tech on compacting the stunning technology for my Widow's Bites. I thought if we can make it that small then it will fit in an arrow head. And I know we're not finished, but I know how to make it work when it is. It's not finished, and we've got to test it, but it's for you."

"A stun arrow." He nudged her shoulder with his. "You made me an arrow. I love it." He leant closer, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Thank you so much. You are amazing. Best gift giver in the world you are."

Natasha shook her head at the self-depreciation behind the compliment. "You touched me with yours."

* * *

It took Clint almost half an hour to unearth his childhood photographs, a cardboard box hidden in a cupboard and half full of a mishmash of pictures, the unfinished album tucked down the side. He didn't know where to start, the obvious chronological order was not easily achieved given his lack of organisation, so he opted for what did come easy to him, talking to her.

"The home got a deal with a local photography shop, good people, so that they could get the film and processing at cost price, be able to capture memories for us. They were really aware that no matter how soon we might be adopted, for a while at least we were missing out. They also knew that some children, especially a child that had suffered, physically, emotionally, mentally, wouldn't be adopted. They knew that one day we would be grown up, hoped that one day we'd find a partner, choose our own family, and knew we'd want to share our childhood with them, however painful it was. They didn't want us to miss out on having pictures of our childhood just because we were orphaned. It's not much, just the landmarks in a child's life, but it's something, and I'm glad you're here for me to share them with." He let the silence grow between them, watching her as a troubled look formed across her features. "What is it?"

Natasha hesitated, considering looking away and brushing it off but that wasn't really what she wanted. "I wish I had a picture to share with you."

He frowned, mirroring her. "We don't need photos to share things with each other. We both missed out; there's a lot of things you're meant to do as a kid that neither of us got to do. How about we do them together?"

"Together?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah. We grab a camera, and in our time off we pick out some things we shoulda got to do as kids, and we take lots of pictures while we do them, and then next year we'll sit here and look through our photos. Together. Remember all the fun and incredible things we did. Together."

The smile that touched her lips was soft and hesitant, her eyes full of curiosity. "Like what?"

"We go to the beach and build a massive sandcastle together, we ride bikes in Central Park, we hire out a laser tag place and play ten games in a row. I'm definitely taking you ice skating before the new year. And we find a ball, you pick out a tie to match your dress, I get you a corsage, we hire a limo, and we pretend it's our prom."

She beamed at him. "It sounds amazing."

Clint nodded, enjoying the excitement in her green eyes. "We'll have the time of our lives."

" _Together_."

Nodding once more, he stood. "Now, come on, Christmas movie time. You choose and I'll get the hot chocolate, with marshmallows of course."

She shook her head. "You pick; something I haven't seen."

"Okay..." He rummaged through the collection of DVDs on the coffee table, selecting one and handing it to her as he passed on his way to the kitchen. "Let's start with that."

"Clint."

"Yeah?"

"Can I keep this?"

She was holding a picture of him at five years old, so young and yet already scarred by the world, unaware of the years it would only get worse until finally it plateaued with S.H.I.E.L.D. And how it wouldn't really get better until his first encounter with the beautiful redhead sat before him. He wondered if she saw a little of her young self in that small boy. "Of course you can."

"Thank you."

He smiled, leaning over the back of the sofa to get closer to her. "And for however much it's worth, I don't need to see a photo to know that you were the most beautiful, adorable little girl. All red curls and dazzling green eyes sparkling with intelligence; beautiful, adorable and strong."

* * *

Late that night, both resting on the sofa under a large blanket after several more festive films, and overindulging with the pizza he'd promised, their focus began to wane. In their line of work, fatigue was undoubtedly dangerous and though they wanted Christmas to last beyond one day, it would only be foolish to harm their vigilance when called upon by letting sleep elude them further.

"Tasha..." The redhead nodded as Clint whispered to her. "Thank you for spending today with me."

A sleepy smile gradually spread across her face. "Yesterday."

"Okay, thank you for spending Christmas with me."

"Thank you for asking me." Reaching over to him, she tweaked the edge of the Santa hat he wore, coaxing the white trim to lie flat against his temple. "You made my first Christmas perfect."

"Glad you feel that way." Smiling, he leant closer. "And I promise, that, if you let me, for as long as we live, be it ten, fifty, a hundred years—"

"We're not gonna live for a hundred years." Natasha shook her head slightly, but in her drowsiness had no inclination to cease smiling.

"Not with that attitude." He beamed as her lips curled upwards even more. "I promise, that I will do whatever I can, anything, to make every future Christmas just as magical as this one."

"You spoil me."

He shrugged. "You deserve it."

Conscious that she was beginning to drift off, she let her eyes close anyway. "No, you do, Clint."

As he soaked in the enchanting sight before him, he deliberately began to whisper to her. "Oh, I feel spoilt."

Gripping her edge of the cover with her left hand, Natasha lifted the blanket up towards her shoulder and tucked it behind her. The sofa shifted beside her, moving with a change of weight but not enough for him to be settling comfortably to prepare for sleep too. "Quit watching me, Barton."

Breaking into a grin, he flexed his muscles and relaxed into the seat, adjusting his own end of the blanket in turn. "Sure." Nonetheless as her green eyes opened again, his gaze found hers and he was rewarded with a smile.

"But stay."

He nodded, leaning a fraction closer and raising his right hand towards her. "Can I?"

Natasha nodded back; she wasn't sure quite what he was asking, but she trusted him implicitly. She closed her eyes, all her features scrunching up tight until she took a breath, exhaling slowly to make her muscles relax once more.

Gently, with extra care, he placed his palm on her cheek, cupping her face to draw her to him and softly press his lips to her forehead. "Night, Tasha."

As he withdrew, she opened her eyes, unable to resist a smile at the tender intimacy. He was beautiful. "Goodnight, Clint." She settled her head back against the sofa and relaxed into the soft seat, happy to let him be the last thing she saw before falling asleep that night. Mirroring her, he pulled his end of the blanket over him, content just to gaze upon her face a while and let the beauty radiating from within her soothe his soul, coaxing him to join her in peaceful slumber.


	2. New Year's Eve Together

New Year's Eve Together

"Tasha, you got a minute?" Clint leant onto the kitchen island, peering across at her.

Showcasing her ability to multitask, she had a novel in one hand, reading it whilst eating her breakfast with the fork in the other. A smile grew on her lips as she finished her mouthful. "You know I'm not busy. You know that for some reason Fury has suddenly stopped testing me."

"You're doing great. I asked him for some time off around Christmas."

"And no one else will work with me." She tilted her head to the side and then straightened it. "Smart."

"Their loss is my gain." He smiled. "We both have the time off, so just let me finish." He pulled a stool towards him and settled onto it, silent.

"What?"

"I did some research, just a little, and I found… I think I found a photo of you when you were younger." Her brow tensed, but before it could crease fully, he cut in. "No. Of you with your parents."

A pause, a deep breath, watching him whilst he stared back. "What?"

"Let me show you." Picking up two sheets of paper, he took his stool round to her side. "I found an article, I think it's a follow up on a house fire."

"I remember a fire."

Clint nodded. "I know; that's how I found this. The whole house burned down, the couple that lived there died, their daughter missing, presumed dead though the article calls for information on her whereabouts. A lost little five-year-old, red-headed girl." He put the first printout in front of her. "She looks like you. She's got your eyes, and her mother's eyes and red hair, her father's curls, his chin… She looks just like you. She's beautiful."

Natasha finally touched the page, putting her hands on the bottom corners. "I can't believe you did this."

He flinched away from the photo. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overstep. This was as far as I looked; I thought you could look further if you wanted, try to find out more, find their names."

Tears welling in her eyes, she shook her head. "No. I can't believe you did this for me."

Smiling, he relaxed towards her, leaning on the counter more. "You wished you had a photo. Now you do. And hey, look." He pointed to two words he had underlined. "Natalia Romanova. You said you chose Natasha Romanoff as a name, well I guess a part of you remembered."

"Like a part of her is in me."

"All the best parts. It looks like you've always been a survivor."

"I suppose so. But they're both gone." Unblinking, she stared at the faces of the couple, willing a memory to trigger.

"I am sorry; I'm sure they would both be proud. At least you know that they didn't abandon you, or choose to give you to the KGB, or sell you."

Nat nodded, forcing herself to look up from the photo, peering round at him instead. "Yeah, thank you." Leaning against his side, she took advantage of the silence to just breathe, and feel him breathing beside her. Clint waited a moment then carefully wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Call me dumb and cheesy, but they look like they love you; they look like you made them happy."

"You're cheesy." She smiled as he laughed at the words, turning his face into her hair. "But definitely not dumb. Thanks for saying it though."

"Anytime."

"What's the other article? The second page."

Clint gave her a squeeze. "An article by a woman, she noticed street children, girls, going missing. From what I could understand, there was one girl in particular—"

"A redhead?"

"Yeah. The author says she tried to look after the girl, give her food, clothing, a blanket; one day she disappeared. Kinda sounds like you; it's the right sort of date."

"You really think that's me?"

He nodded, making sure she'd feel it, then held the photo up before her. "Who wouldn't wanna save that girl? I did."

* * *

That night, to celebrate New Year's Eve, they headed to Clint's favourite bar, the same one he'd taken Natasha to on the night she'd joined S.H.I.E.L.D. It paid to know the staff, or more accurately to be liked by them, it meant they didn't mind overlooking his partner's age and serving her. Perhaps that was just the effect she had on them, but he'd had to swear she was responsible and promise to look after her, the latter earning a chuckle from them both.

Just over an hour before midnight, the pair were sat side by side in a booth, finishing up their ciders as they talked. They started with work and soon moved onto the new year and how soon she could gain her first level or even more, at least get a proper mission. He sympathised, but worried that the more he tried to reassure her, the less she believed him.

"Tasha..." The archer tapped her arm until she turned her head and met his gaze. "Tell me, do you, are you happy?"

"Happy?"

"With where your life is, with where we are, where you work, where we live; with life?"

She stared at him. He stared back, waiting. Then she stood, her sparkly dress catching the coloured lights as she made her way around the table. The music had changed. "I love this song. Dance with me."

Clint leant forward, putting his weight on the table. "Hey, don't do that."

Stooping to grab his arm, she pulled him up by the elbow, tugging harder when he tried to turn away. "Keep your eyes on me."

He rolled his eyes. "Tash, you're holding back."

She leant towards him, bringing her face close to his as she released his arm, taking hold of his hand instead. "Shut up and dance with me."

His resistance waned as she held his gaze, until finally he let his arms go limp and with a smirk, she dragged him to the dance floor.

There they stayed, long after the first song had ended. He considered pulling her aside, but she was dancing, feeling the music and moving with grace, ignoring everyone around them. Watching her, all concern for what she thought disappeared, getting lost in the joy on her face instead.

With a minute to go before midnight, the music lowered to prepare for the countdown, couples drew each other close, best friends hurled an arm round each other's shoulders, and Natasha rested her hands on the back of Clint's neck. "Yes."

"Huh?"

"I'm glad I came with you, joined S.H.I.E.L.D."

His entire body relaxed, a smile creeping its way onto his face. "I just wanted to know that I did the right thing."

She laughed. "I don't know about that."

"The right thing by you."

She paused, then nodded. "I am glad you saved me. I'm really glad I met you."

"Good." He felt her take his hand and place it on the small of her back, then lean into his touch as his other hand followed. "I just want you to be safe, and happy, and free."

Natasha drew him towards her, beaming. "I know. For the first time that I can remember, I'm not dreading the new year; I'm looking forward to spending it together."

The last few seconds of the countdown echoed around them, and as the year ended and a new one began, Clint cupped his partner's face in his palms and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

The redhead pulled him closer, clutching him to her as she rested her head against his shoulder. "Happy New Year, Barton."

Smiling, he squeezed her back. "Happy New Year, Romanoff."


End file.
